


monsoon season

by jacenbren



Series: Wayward Son ‘Verse [2]
Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Blood, Blood and Injury, Cheating, Dark Luke Skywalker, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Inquisitor Barriss Offee, Inquisitor Cal Kestis, Inquisitor Ezra Bridger, M/M, Masochism, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Physical Abuse, Rough Sex, Sad, Sad Ending, Sibling Bonding, Smut, Sort Of, Trauma, Unrequited Love, literally like 3000 words of pure pain, or else you’ll be extremely confused, you’re going to want to read Carry On My Wayward Son first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacenbren/pseuds/jacenbren
Summary: The afterbirth of missions are never good when someone gets severely injured. Luke’s been serving the Empire for a while now, and he knows this.Everyone knows this.All of the Sith Inquisitors have their ways of coping with reality, and some are… healthier than others.(A deeper look into Luke’s relationship with Cal during their Inquisitor days. Could technically be read as a standalone fic, although I do not recommend reading it without having readCarry On, My Wayward Sonfirst.)
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Luke Skywalker, Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri | Second Sister, Ezra Bridger & Luke Skywalker
Series: Wayward Son ‘Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087181
Kudos: 3





	monsoon season

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while stewing in my depression blanket burrito because of writer’s block enjoy

Today’s mission had been more taxing than usual. 

They’d been sent out to sabotage a rebel strike on a crucial research facility near the Nihon Crescent. Unfortunately the traitors had had a mole, which meant they’d been able to catch the Inquisitors completely off guard and after a furious, bloody struggle, the Empire had lost their hold on the compound. When the air strike had finally arrived, the Inquisitors had barely made it to the transports before most of the TIEs had been shot down. 

Luke’s sore muscles screamed in protest as he turned the faucet on, but the warm water was soothing as it poured over his aching body. 

He closed his eyes and sucked in a shaking breath. 

They’d nearly lost Mara. His best friend was currently in a medically-induced coma in the repair bay, and whether or not she’d survive the point-blank gunshot to the throat was up to the gods now. 

They’d done everything they could. 

Luke hoped she’d be okay. 

Watching it happen had been the worst part. Luke remembered she’d been smiling one second, her fans flashing as she took down another Resistance traitor, and the next blood was spraying and she was on the ground and Luke numbly remembered screaming and ripping his spearblade through flesh and the rebel who’d fired the shot was dead at his feet, head severed from their body.

Luke stared numbly at the floor. 

The water pouring off him swirled down the drain, tinted brown from dried blood. 

The locker room door banged open. 

Luke glanced up, watching numbly as Ezra and Barriss both trudged in. Barriss undressed quickly and started to wash herself clean, but Ezra lingered in front of the mirror over the sink, staring silently at his own filthy, mud-streaked face and dim blue flash tattoo for a moment before slowly undressing and limping over to the showers. 

Luke winced in sympathy. Ezra was clearly tired. The kid usually didn’t stare at himself in the mirror unless he was exhausted or upset. 

It was probably both, given that this had been the kid’s very first major mission, and not only that but he’d also gotten a tear in his endoskeleton from some shrapnel that had almost killed him. 

Luke went back to staring numbly at the tile floor. None of them were fazed by each other’s nakedness or the lack of privacy in the locker rooms. There  _ were _ stalls they could use, but it was an unspoken rule that you didn’t use them unless something was wrong. The locker room showers were a place where the Inquisitors could decompress after a mission without the handlers breathing down their necks; a place where they could talk about things that would normally get them sent to reconditioning. 

“You don’t look too good,” Ezra said suddenly, and Luke jumped. 

_ “Fuck, _ don’t sneak up on me,” Luke muttered, turning. “You know I really hate it when you do that.”

Ezra frowned. “You look stressed. Let me wash your hair for you.”

Luke heaved a sigh. 

He sat down on the floor as Ezra picked up one of the communal bottles of soap off the rack and poured some into his hand, then began to massage it into Luke’s scalp. Ever since Luke had been tasked with training the kid, they’d had a closer relationship than the others, almost like they were siblings. Besides, something about letting one of his fellow Inquisitors—no, one of his  _ friends _ —wash his hair for him was soothing and calmed Luke down. 

Usually it was Mara who did it, though. 

Sometimes Cal. 

Barriss turned off her shower and wrapped a towel around herself as she padded away, regarding them nervously over her shoulder. 

Luke remembered being new like that. 

Barriss had only been an Inquisitor for three months. Of course she was tense. 

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Luke mumbled, rocking back and forth—he didn’t know why, really; the movement kept him grounded and somewhat calm as the tears he’d been trying to hold down threatened to spill over. “I… I feel like there’s something I could’ve done, Ezra, if I’d been faster or stronger I could’ve done something and Mara wouldn’t be so hurt—“

Ezra smacked the top of his head lightly, sending a couple of soap bubbles flying. 

“I don’t think you’d’ve seen it coming regardless,” Ezra said. “Look, man, you need to take your own advice. You can’t protect everybody. Sometimes people get hurt and you can’t do anything about it. Mara’s the toughest of all of us. She’ll make it.”

Luke almost chuckled bitterly to himself. 

Here he was, twenty-two years old, struggling not to cry on a shower floor while the thirteen-year-old he considered his little brother tried to console him. 

“I don’t know,” Luke mumbled. “I… I just don’t  _ know _ I don’t get it.”

He was a good soldier. 

Good soldiers followed orders. 

But if that damn Resistance traitor had killed Mara, he probably would’ve lost it. 

She was his best friend. 

Luke winced at the sting of soap in his eyes as Ezra tried to rinse his hair. 

“Shit,” the kid mumbled. “Sorry.”

“What’s the point, even?” Luke sighed, shutting his eyes. “I mean, we fight for the glory of the Empire. A noble cause. But what happens when there’s nothing left for us to kill?”

Silence from Ezra. 

“Don’t know,” the kid finally said, setting the shower head aside. “I mean, you mentioned once that they let us go to Ember Island sometimes, right? Maybe we’ll just retire like normal soldiers. Can you wash my hair now?”

_ We’re not soldiers, _ a mutinous little voice in Luke’s mind interjected.  _ We’re more akin to weapons. Equipment, really. _

“Retiring would be nice,” Luke murmured, ignoring the voice. “Sure, kid.”

They didn’t speak at all while Luke washed Ezra’s hair.

———

Luke sighed. 

Sleeping in a real bed felt strange, he thought, staring at the ceiling of the tiny room he’d been issued. Not long after Ezra had arrived a crew had come in and constructed real sleeping quarters for them on Handler Versio’s orders, and Luke had put off using his. Technically he didn’t  _ have _ to. Most of the others preferred their pods, but occasionally after long missions, Mara would sleep in her room. Ezra mostly used his quarters as his own private study area, and Cal… 

Well, when Cal slept in an actual bed, more often than not it was with Trilla. 

Luke mostly just used his room to store his gear and weapons instead of for sleeping. 

He checked the weather outside the facility again out of boredom, and the hissing of heavy rainfall was soothing in his ears as the screen displaying vid-feed of the jungle outside this particular facility as well as the temperature and wind speed popped up in the corner of his HUD. It had been raining for a while, given it was the middle of the monsoon season here in northern Iñosia.

Lightning flashed, and Luke counted seven seconds before the low roll of thunder followed. 

Cal had been distant lately, he thought to himself. It was probably because of Trilla. Luke had noticed her digging her nails into Cal’s arm whenever they happened to be standing side by side and Cal glanced Luke’s way. 

Luke closed his eyes. 

He felt so tired, but he couldn’t quite get his mind to shift over into sleep mode. 

Suddenly someone knocked on the door. 

Luke sighed and got up, stretching and popping his back and pulling his bodysuit back on before he finally palmed the button to open the door. The button panel had obviously been pulled from an ancient bunker; the switches were worn and rusted by time but hastily polished in anticipation for use. 

The door slid open. 

_ Cal _ stood there, hunched and defeated like a beaten dog, his red hair spiky and in disarray and blood dripping down his face from his bleeding nose and mouth. His face was horribly bruised, and his yellow eyes were dull and morose as his flash tattoo flickered slowly from blue to red to green in a seemingly endless cycle. From the unsteady way he was standing, still fully dressed in his armor, he’d likely injured something in his leg. 

Luke scanned him. 

He winced. Cal’s wrist had been sprained, and he’d broken a few toes. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Luke asked. 

And then Cal started  _ sobbing. _

“I stepped out of line,” he hiccuped. “It’s my fault. My fault. My fault my fault my fault it’s my fault I did this it’s my fault—“

Luke didn’t bother asking more questions. 

He pulled Cal into his room, gently guiding him to the bed and sitting him down. Cal kept crying, even when Luke started to clean his wounds with a medkit he’d smuggled out of the repair bay to keep under his bed. 

Luke didn’t know why he’d stolen it. 

Probably that compulsive need to feel like he was prepared for anything.

“She did most of this to you,” he murmured, carefully wiping the blood off a cut on Cal’s hairline. “Didn’t she?”

Cal nodded faintly. 

The affirmation sent white-hot rage arcing through Luke’s processors.

How couldn’t Cal see it? Trilla didn’t  _ act _ like she loved him. Their relationship was more akin to a ringleader and their circus animals: Cal seemed like he was perpetually subservient to Trilla, and if he didn’t follow her every command to the letter…

“I acted up,” Cal murmured numbly, his eyes just as hollow as his voice. “I didn’t follow her orders. Now Mara’s hurt. And I paid for it.”

“You didn’t pay for anything!” Luke snapped, his voice catching in his throat as some of his anger and the sheer  _ pity _ he felt for Cal slipped loose. “If anything Mara’s hurt because  _ I _ wasn’t paying attention! Trilla’s using this as a fucking excuse to beat it into your head that you’re lesser to her! How can’t you fucking see that she’s trained you like a dog?”

Cal narrowed his eyes. “Don’t talk about her like that. She was punishing me for stepping out of line. And I  _ am _ lesser to her. Everybody knows that.”

“Not to me you aren’t,” Luke retorted.

He hoped Cal didn’t notice how his voice wobbled as he fought back tears for the second time in two hours.

Cal’s expression twisted into something pained and furious; his flash tattoo flickered purple and red and green for a split second before reverting back blue.

“Y—you’re too good for her,” Luke blurted, reaching up to cup Cal’s cheek.

Cal swatted his hand away.

_ Oh. _

That was new.

It was silent for a moment as they stared at each other, and Luke slowly brought his hand back, gently stroking one of the bruises under Cal’s left eye with his thumb.

“You’re my friend,” Luke forced out. “I… I know you’re… you’re hurting, and… if you want me to leave you alone right now—“

Cal flinched, his flash tattoo flaring red.

“N—no,” he mumbled, screwing his eyes shut and grabbing Luke’s hand, pinning it against his face. “No no no no no. No don’t leave. I need you. I need you now I need you please don’t go, please—“

Luke squeezed his eyes shut and hugged Cal firmly.

“Breathe,” he reminded his friend. “Breathe. I won’t leave if you don’t want me to. I won’t let anything bad happen to you—“

Cal suddenly yanked him in by the collar of his bodysuit and kissed him.

Luke gasped in surprise, but he forced himself to pull away a bit even though that more impulsive, instant gratification-driven part of him screamed in protest. 

Cal blinked in confusion, something desperate and pleading in his eyes.

“Cal,” Luke mumbled even as he shifted unconsciously into his friend’s lap, arousal starting to build low in his gut as Cal’s hand came to rest on the nape of his neck below his access port. “I don’t think you wanna do this now. We’re all hurt and tired and you especially need to rest.”

Cal growled.

“No, I need this,” he muttered, his flash tattoo starting to pulse red and green and bright pink. “Luke, I need this. I need  _ you. _ You always make me feel better after… when she…”

“You know what she’ll do to you if she finds out about this,” Luke managed to reply, his breath hitching as Cal leaned down, slowly unzipping the front of his bodysuit just enough that he could press kisses down his neck and mouth at Luke’s pulse fluttering under his jaw. 

“I don’t care,” Cal muttered, little by little sliding the hand on Luke’s neck down his spine and to his ass.

Luke bit his lip, trying and failing to stifle a groan.

This felt too good.

It shouldn’t, though. They shouldn’t be doing this. There would be hell to pay if Trilla found out about it.

But hell, what was one more time?

Granted, that was what Luke thought every time they did this, he thought as Cal started to kiss his neck in earnest, teeth scraping flesh probably leaving marks in their wake. Luke remembered thinking the exact same thing after the first time they’d ever slept together, months before Ezra had joined the Inquisition. He’d thought it the time after that, then the next, and the next, until the realization that the vice that was letting his best friend fuck him was irresistible.

Every time, he told Cal it was a bad idea.

Every time, he told Cal that they were both gonna hate themselves in the morning if they did this again.

But Cal kept coming back.

And Luke kept saying yes. 

What had started out as something fun and boredom-killing (and the schadenfreude of sneaking behind Trilla’s back was just too good to resist sometimes) had turned into…

Well, it just got depressing after a while.

Trilla had managed to blind Cal to how cruel she was, but at the same time Cal was still desperate for any form of escape from her and clung to anybody who showed him attention like a leech. Still, he either didn’t understand or just chose to ignore the fact that what Trilla was showing him was abuse, not love, and wouldn’t just  _ run away. _ Then again, escape from Trilla was impossible, especially since they were the Empire’s most elite weapons of mass destruction. Cal was an unfortunate example of what happened when that manipulative she-demon got her claws in someone. 

If Luke hadn’t known better, he would’ve said Cal had caught feelings for him.

Then the pain of teeth sinking into his neck jarred him back to the present, and Luke yelped in surprise. Thankfully Cal didn’t seem to have broken the skin this time. The guy was weirdly  _ bitey _ whenever they fucked, and Luke didn’t mind unless he couldn’t hide the resulting marks.

“Rein it in,” he gasped, struggling to hold in a moan as Cal found a sensitive spot under the corner of his jaw and gently nibbled at it. “No hickies this time— _ haah!” _

Luke couldn’t help the breathy gasp he let out as Cal wordlessly began to suck at that one spot, hands grasping at his hips and drawing them down, flush with his own. Luke finally gave in, closing his eyes and letting his hips grind like they wanted to, and then Cal rolled him over onto the bed and kissed his lips.

Luke moaned softly into Cal’s mouth as the taste of iron swamped him. Cal’s tongue was tender and bloody. He must’ve bitten it while Trilla had been beating him senseless.

“Gotta…” Cal mumbled, worrying Luke’s lower lip with his teeth. “Gotta get rid of these clothes…”

Hurried scuffling ensued as they struggled out of their clothes and fell back onto the bed, and Luke’s stomach plummeted when he saw the floral patterns of deep bruises blooming on Cal’s chest and abs; the untreated cuts and abrasions from today’s battle adorning his body like bloody medals on honor. 

He looked… oddly beautiful, even though his wounds sure as hell weren’t. 

Luke sucked in a sharp breath of pain as Cal grasped his hip, accidentally grazing a scrape he’d forgotten about. 

“Shit, sorry,” Cal mumbled as he reached over to grab the bottle of oil out of Luke’s bedside drawer. “Tell me where it hurts.”

“Avoid my ribs,” Luke sighed, shutting his eyes and leaning back on the cot. “Be gentle with my chest, too. Think I broke a rib. Got grazed by a bullet on my bicep… fuck it, just try and be a little less rough than usual. I’m already sore as shit and you sure as hell aren’t any better.”

Cal let out a bitter chuckle, pushing his violently red hair out of his eyes. That fire was back in them; the gold was burning hot and ravenous instead of disheartened and lifeless. “Can’t promise, прекрасный.”

Luke swallowed hard. 

“Stop talking,” he breathed, leaning up to thread his fingers through Cal’s hair and drag him forward. “And fuck me.”

———

Luke was back to staring at the ceiling. 

He felt bone-tired now, and pretty gross and sticky now that he thought about it.

He should probably shower again. 

He didn’t have the energy, though, and whenever he moved the whole lower half of his body ached like absolute hell. 

Cal seemed to be in the same boat, but he’d dozed off a while ago. Right now he was still naked and battered and curled up on his side, facing away from Luke and fast asleep. Unfortunately, the angle gave Luke a painfully clear view of the deep scratches he’d unwittingly gouged into Cal’s back. 

Well, at least they weren’t bleeding, Luke thought bitterly, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to limp over to the tiny refresher unit attached to his quarters and at least wipe himself down. 

Most of the scratches, anyway. 

“Damn it,” Luke muttered, catching sight of himself in the mirror. “You’re  _ always _ gonna say yes, aren’t you?”

His reflection offered no rebuttal. 

_Ashla,_ he was a mess. There were hickies and bite marks scattered down his chest and hips, some of the latter marks bleeding sluggishly. Luke made a mental reminder to requisition some bacta patches tomorrow, taking in his sticky and dejected face, his hair standing on end and matted with sweat. The bruises from the mission today just looked worse, and his cuts and scrapes had opened up again.

He’d have to requisition fresh sheets too. They’d been ruined by copious amounts of various bodily fluids.

He knew he shouldn’t be saying yes. He’d probably be penalized by the handlers for not being able to train as well tomorrow, and Cal… 

Well, Trilla was going to be pissed that her boyfriend/pet had willingly cheated on her. 

_ Again. _

And yet, Cal kept going behind her back, and Luke’s own ridiculously stubborn mind wouldn’t stop going along with him. 

He loved Cal deeply. 

Just… not in the way he feared Cal did. 

It had been… strange, he thought to himself. They’d completely abandoned their intent to be slow and careful and had instead gotten just as violent and desperate as they always were despite the pain of their injuries; Cal’s hands had been digging into his hips hard enough to bruise, biting and mouthing at his neck, fucking him mercilessly into the sheets. Luke had been gasping his name, twisting and moaning and practically begging as he raked his nails down Cal’s back, drawing sharp whimpers and groans in response.

And then Cal had grabbed his thighs, practically folding Luke in half under him and panting  _ I love you _ over and over into his ear.

Something sick and awful had settled in Luke’s chest, just like it always did.

Only worse.

He hadn’t been able to say it back, for some reason. It wasn’t like he hadn’t  _ tried, _ but the words had tasted bitter and acrid on his tongue and he just  _ couldn’t. _

Instead, he’d dragged Cal into a kiss to shut him up.

He  _ wanted _ to be able to say it back. He  _ wanted _ to love Cal like that, he really did. But he just didn’t. 

He couldn’t.

It might’ve sounded cheesy, but deep down he knew that Cal wasn’t…

He just wasn’t  _ right. _

Luke heaved a long sigh and slowly started to wipe himself down with a washcloth, finally letting the tears that he’d been forcing back since arriving here fall.

“Damn it,” he muttered again.

He slowly pulled on a fresh bodysuit from the closet and limped back out of the refresher. He faltered at the door, debating whether or not to go to his pod.

He glanced back at Cal.

Cal looked… well, he looked oddly peaceful, curled up in the bloody, damp sheets.

Luke bit his lip.

Well, it wasn’t like anything would change, he thought, collapsing on the bed next to Cal. Tomorrow they’d wake up and go out to breakfast and pretend that last night had never happened. Then they’d probably end up fucking again next week, and repeating the whole cycle of guilt and disappointment and post-sex depression.

Oh well. They’d never stop coming back to each other, Luke thought, checking the weather again and letting the sounds of the rain outside lull him into sleep.

It was as sure as the probability of thunderstorms during the monsoon season.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m guessing if you’ve read most of the things I’ve written you can tell that making characters suffer is my speciality  
> But trust me I have some more lighthearted stuff planned for the near future I promise :)


End file.
